Far From The Eyes, Far From The Heart
by Wishing Wounds
Summary: After the end of the war, Hermione plunged herself into solitude. Can Fleur bring her back into the light?
1. Chapter 1

When Hermione was six years old, her parents grounded her for sneaking out of the house and climbing on the roof to watch the sunset every day for a week, fearing that one morning she would slip and fall to her death or injury. Now, as she sat on the roof of her new home to see crimson and gold rays cut through granite-colored clouds, Hermione wished for her mother's worried voice to meet her ears and for her father's hands to pick her up and carry her into bed. But they had died six months ago, and would never help her sleep again.

Not that she really slept anymore these days, Hermione thought as she climbed down from the roof and went back inside. Even though the war against Voldemort had ended months ago, the insomnia she had developed during those grueling days and nights refused to go away. The old Hermione had thought that victory would soothe all of her aches, but nothing could have been further from the truth. Too many horrible things had happened to secure success for the Light.

She remembered that after destroying the last Horcrux, hidden within Voldemort's snake Nagini, Harry had confronted the Dark Lord surrounded by his friends, every surviving member of the Order, and the reinforcements their allies in Bulgaria and France had sent by Portkey. It was too bad Voldemort had had one last trick up his sleeve.

When his Avada Kedavra spell ricocheted off of a joint Shield spell by Harry and Ginny and struck him in the chest, the body that fell to the ground was not that of Voldemort, but Lucius Malfoy who had taken a dose of Polyjuice potion. It had all been a ploy. Two Death Eaters, hiding under Invisibility cloaks, had grabbed the two members of the Light closest to them, Hermione and Fleur, and Apparated away while every one else was distracted.

While the two witches found themselves in the same cell, it became obvious that Fleur was nothing more than a hostage as Hermione was hauled, night after night, to a dark chamber where none other than Bellatrix Lestrange and her husband Rodolphus raped and tortured her for hours on end, demanding information in between cruel thrusts and the myriad casting of the Cruciatus spell. Every night she returned to her cell and watched Fleur sleep, as she no longer had the ability.

After two weeks of silence, it became apparent that the methods of torture were having no effect besides the occasional scream of agony and Bellatrix had suggested an alternate method of intimidation.

They, with wicked smiles she would never forget, strapped Hermione down to a steel table and started to drip a bottle of what she believed was acid onto the right side of her face, letting one drop fall at a time before Vanishing it away before the damage got past the skin.

After six hours, the angry red of soon to be scarred flesh was down her neck to the start of her shoulder. It was then that Harry and the others had managed to find her and Fleur moments after they defeated the true Voldemort. Bellatrix and Rodolphus were Stunned and wrapped in the ropes of an Incarcerous spell, but even with her torturers helpless and her friends around her, cutting through her bindings, Hermione did not stop screaming for an entire night.

When she woke up after having Remus and Tonks hold her down and force Dreamless Sleep down her throat, everyone was around her bed, though only three people, Remus Lupin, Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour were looking directly at her. When Hermione asked with a shaking voice for a mirror, the Frenchwoman fetched one from her room a moment later without a word and held it up for Hermione to look into.

Tears (that could only come down the left side of her face because the tear ducts on her right were now damaged beyond repair) came down the seventeen year old's cheek as she stared unflinchingly at her new face. Remus explained to her that none of their spells had done anything to heal it and said he believed that the Lestranges had enchanted the acid to keep the damage from being reversed.

Hermione gave no answer to her ex-Professor's words but turned to look Harry, who now had managed to turn and see her face and asked him how many people they believed had died for the Light in these last battles altogether. It was a cruel question, she knew, but at this moment in her life, all thoughts of being polite or merciful were nonexistent in her head.

She listened as he spoke, making a mental list. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill (she saw Fleur wince), Percy, Fred, George, all of the Professors at Hogwarts save McGonagall (who was in critical condition) and Hagrid, over two thirds of the students at Hogwarts, the French and Bulgarian witches and wizards who had accompanied Fleur and Krum, and Mad-Eye Moody. So much death to rid the world of one soul.

By the time Harry had finished there were tears in everyone's eyes, and Hermione told all of them their time would be better spent grieving for the dead rather than the wounded because she would live another day. They obeyed her for the most part, leaving the room all too quickly, but Viktor gave her a kiss on the forehead and told Hermione he would rather stay. Fleur also didn't move, but said nothing.

After the mass funeral the remaining members of the Light had arranged, they all returned to Hogwarts to try and repair the damage there. Remus refused to let the school fall apart and began owling the Ministry for their assistance with repairs. Some of the surviving villagers of Hogsmeade also came to help, and soon enough, everything was fixed. On the outside anyways.

As a hero of the Light, Hermione had been given a small house near the Wizarding village free of charge, and spent most of her time alone, refusing multiple interview requests and only letting a select few friends breach the constant wards she had cast over her home. Viktor probably visited her the most, using the few hours she gave him inside to get her to eat or talk, both things she didn't do often. Hermione had her suspicions that he still very much wished to be with her, but thankfully Viktor was polite enough not to do more than try and make her healthy.

Sometimes Harry, Ron, and Ginny would come as a group for tea, as if they all were afraid of being alone with her. When they came over, Hermione had taken to wearing a cloak with a hood so she could cover her face and Ron would actually stare at something besides the floor. But to her shock, he had cornered her one afternoon and asked if she'd like to go out with him.

Her response was (in a voice filled with venom) if she'd have to wear a mask when they were in public. His ears had turned a dark shade of red and he murmured something about her temper getting worse with age. Since then, Ron had not been welcome in her house and all of his owls of apology were sent back unanswered.

Ginny had stopped coming by as well when she heard about Hermione rejecting her brother, but Harry still visited for another month before she received two owls from Ginny: one informing her that she and Harry were engaged, and another stating she'd prefer it if her fiancé didn't visit Hermione anymore. With a gentle rage, she had torn apart the letters and tossed them in the fire.

When Krum was hired as the Quidditch coach at Hogwarts, his visits began to decrease as well, much to her quiet despair.

It had been a week since Hermione had seen another soul, so she was surprised when she heard a knock at the door. Taking a long sip of her coffee, she stood; pulling up the hood of the cloak she now wore constantly and walked over to the thick redwood door opening it halfway to see who had interrupted her breakfast.

Hermione blinked in surprise at the sight of Fleur Delacour standing at her front porch, dressed in nice but casual robes. The twenty year-old woman gave her a small smile and asked quietly if she could come inside. With a murmured reply in the affirmative, Hermione opened the door all the way and took a few steps back.

Fleur came inside and gently closed the door behind her. She stared at Hermione's hood for a moment before shaking her head out of her little trance. The Gryffindor sat down at the oak table she ate at every morning and gestured for the Frenchwoman to take a seat.

When Fleur sat down, Hermione poured her a cup of coffee and offered it to the older woman, who took it with a visible look of relief in her cerulean eyes.

"I didn't think you'd let me in," Fleur started off, pushing a strand of silver hair out of her face absently.

"I didn't think you were still in the country," Hermione responded, voice a little rough from lack of use.

"Zair is nothing left for me in France," she said, a thread of sadness trailing through her words. Hermione remembered someone telling her that Fleur's sister Gabrielle had recently died, but she wasn't sure who had informed her.

Hermione wanted to ask exactly was what was here considering her husband's death, but held her tongue for the first time in months. She looked at Fleur and saw the signs of self-neglect in her pale face; hollow lines from lacking of eating, blood-shot eyes from sleepless nights…all things Hermione saw every morning she dared to look in the mirror.

"Why come to me?" She asked finally, still recovering from the surprise of finding the woman on her doorstep.

"I don't know really," Fleur murmured, staring into her coffee, "something in my 'eart told me to, and in France we listen to our 'earts more than our minds. Perhaps I just wanted someone to talk to."

"I'm afraid if you're looking for mindless chatter or conversation to merely pass the time, you've come to the wrong place."

"Well, then it's a good thing zat's not what I was looking for, oui?"

Hermione paused.

"What are you looking for then?"

"You, 'ermione. Ze one person I can't get out my mind."

Another pause followed Fleur's words before Hermione answered.

"Why me?"

"Because, though everything zat happened, you stayed stronger than everyone else and no one has bothered to thank you for it."

Anger bubbled in Hermione's stomach as she hissed, "So what is this, a dose of sympathy and a thank you for suffering for the good of the cause before you fly off on your merry way?"

Fleur blinked, looking shocked. "No, zat was not my intention at all-"

Hermione interrupted her with a growl, "Then what is your damned intention, Fleur? To try and make up for all the stupid things my friends have done, or to try and get rid of your guilt because they tortured me instead of you?"

The blue eyes looking at Hermione chilled to several degrees below zero.

"Whether or not it matters to you, I wish zey 'ad tortured me rather than you. You gave up everything and no one bothered to pick up ze pieces of yourself you 'ad to leave behind because of it. But zat's not why I came. I-"

Fleur stopped, and Hermione's eyes hardened with frustration.

"You what?"

The Frenchwoman stood, shaking her head. "Perhaps I was wrong."

"About what!" Hermione yelled, on the verge of crushing her coffee cup between her hands.

Fleur fled towards the door, all composure gone. Her eyes held both a little fear and the beginning of tears as she whispered, "About believing zat I was falling in love with you."

With that, she ran out, the door slamming behind her, leaving an extremely confused and startled Hermione to gasp the word, "What?"


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione was paralyzed with shock for a moment at Fleur's last words, jaw slack with surprise. Love…her…what? She jumped out of her chair, knocking it to the floor with a clatter, grabbing her wand before she dashed out the door after the woman she had just been screaming at.

Seeing no sign of the older witch, Hermione swore heatedly under her breath and whispered 'Point Me' to her wand while thinking of Fleur's pale face and shining hair. It turned towards the gates in front of the Shrieking Shack, and Hermione immediately started to run in that direction, not noticing when her hood was jerked back by the wind blowing the opposite way.

With a noise of effort, Hermione climbed over the fence and landed in a crouch on the other side of it. She cast the Locator spell again, and rushed across the grounds towards the decaying building.

The door was already partially open, but Hermione almost took it off its hinges with how hard she had shoved it. In fact she was going so fast that she almost knocked over Fleur, stop only inches from the woman, the unmarred side of her face flushed with exertion.

Fleur looked very surprised to see Hermione trying to catch her breath in front of her, but a little glint of amusement was caught in her eyes, and she quickly tried to hide a smile.

"What's so funny?" Hermione gasped, curiosity overwhelming overtaking the other thousand questions she had buzzing around in her mind.

"You ran," Fleur said simply.

Hermione blushed in response. While she had been attempting Olympic-style speeds, Fleur had merely Apparated to her current location. But she quickly recovered her composure and went back to the issue that she had just embarrassed herself over.

"Did you say what I think you said?"

She saw Fleur's eyes drifting without consent, and realized her hood had fallen down during her mad dash to the Shack. Hermione pulled it up roughly, jaw clenching with old anger.

Fleur looked utterly horrified at what she had just done and starting stumbling over the words, "I'm sorry, I didn't-"

Hermione cut her off with a raised hand.

"Answer my question."

"Yes, if you 'eard me say zat I fell in love with you."

Again, confusion trampled over Hermione's thoughts.

"You…y-what!"

"I love you," Fleur said a little slower, "Surely I am not ze first one to tell you zat."

Of course it wasn't. Viktor had told her that years ago, Ron had mumbled it during his unenthusiastic attempt to get her in his bed, and her parents (when they were still alive) told her that every night before she went to bed and at the end of every letter they sent to her at Hogwarts.

"But," Hermione started, still at a loss for words, "Bill!"

"Sadly is dead. And if you think perhaps I am getting over him too quickly, I will swear upon anything zat is not ze truth. 'e was ze first one to notice my eyes wandering before I even realized it myself. But, as 'e said when 'e proposed to me, ze most important thing to 'im was my happiness. I do not think Bill would deny me this confession, even if 'e still breathed."

"Why me?" Hermione asked cautiously, Fleur's blatant stare at her scars still stinging.

"You…" Fleur paused, letting out a deep breath, "were once one of ze most passionate people I 'ad ever known, filled with ambition and a quick wit. You, who put so much faith in your friends even when zey 'urt you. Then ze war came, and I watched it strip away everything you 'ad been. It broke my 'eart every night you came back from those 'orrors to our cell, because each time another part of you was missing."

Fleur's sentences quickly degraded into French too rapid for Hermione to understand, but her voice, more thickly accented than usual, was desperate when she ended with, "You understand, i non /i ?"

Hermione really wasn't sure how to answer that, but said softly, "I used to hate you. The first time I saw you, I thought you were an arrogant airhead with a pretty face. But I was proven wrong a long time ago. I apologize for how I may have treated you."

Fleur nodded absently but responded with, "While I appreciate your apology, 'ermione, it is now you who is not answering ze question at hand."

Hermione bit her lip, even more embarrassed than before.

"Yes," she said, "I understand. But even so, I don't understand what you could see in me now. In i this /i ."

Her voice was thick with bitterness as she touched her pitted and scarred cheek.

"I see someone who has never 'ad the chance to 'eal because everyone she used to trust has abandoned 'er and forgotten what she did for them at risk to both 'er sanity and 'er life."

Hermione's answer to that stuck in her throat because Fleur stepped forward and the younger witch succumbed to the urge to kiss her. Flower of the heart, she thought, melting against the French witch's lips, was how Fleur's name translated to English. It was gorgeous, just like the rest of her.

Both of them stumbled backwards, ending up against a wall. Hermione's hands, now entwined with Fleur's, held the older witch still under her probing mouth. The purr that emanated deep in Fleur's throat in response made a chill slide down her spine.

Thoughts of how wrong it was to be kissing someone of her own gender rose like annoying imps in Hermione's mind, but when manicured hands slipped from hers and nails raked down her back, her train of thought considering 'right' and 'wrong' quickly changed to 'please' and 'more'.

She had a weak noise of protest when Fleur jerked down her hood, thoroughly disgusted with her damaged appearance. It was like venom trickling into the sweet release of this experience. Hermione was sure that Fleur would only pay attention to the pale skin of her left cheek, but was pleasantly surprised when the opposite occurred.

Soft lips trailed over tissue rough like thick leather, tongue sliding into imperfections and the deepest scars. Hermione's eyes were practically rolled into the back of her head from pleasure, because beneath the flesh, her nerves tingled and heated her blood as Fleur's mouth slowly moved down the coarse plains of her jaw to the hard and twisted skin of Hermione's throat.

The Frenchwoman, feeling particularly adventurous, bit down at the juncture between the girl's neck and shoulder, a satisfied smile emerging on her lips when Hermione made a sound caught between pleasure and pain. Her mouth sealed on where she had just left teeth marks, sucking gently on the thick flesh.

"Hermione?"

Both women both froze like deer caught in the headlights. Fleur looked over Hermione's shoulder to see Ginny Weasley, face flushed with anger and shock.


	3. Chapter 3

"What the bloody hell is going on here?" Ginny yelled, her slightly dropped jaw and wide eyes evidence of a complete shock to the senses.

Hermione turned to face Ginny and give her a piece of her mind, but was firmly kept still by Fleur's strong arms around her waist.

"Nothing zat's your business," the Frenchwoman said coolly, grimacing in sadness when Hermione pulled her hood back up in a crude motion, still breathing hard from Fleur's ministrations.

"It is when the wife of my dead brother is fucking another woman!"

"Contrary to popular opinion," Hermione hissed, abandoning her attempt to escape Fleur's grip, "Marriage does have a tendency to become non-existent when one of the partners dies, Ginny. And it's pretty hard to become intimate, or using your word, fuck someone when you're wearing all of your clothes."

"You know," Ginny said in a too-sweet voice that reminded Hermione of Professor Umbridge, "I thought you turned Ron down because of Viktor. But I guess you were too busy chasing women to sleep with a man. You're disgusting."

Hermione's hands had clenched into fists, and she tensed to leap forward when Fleur sank her nails into her left shoulder, shaking her head. Hermione winced at the chastising gesture and glared at Fleur.

"'ermione, could you please give us a moment?"

The younger witch bared her teeth, but nodded. Fleur let Hermione shrug out of her grip and walk past Ginny with narrowed eyes. She left the Shrieking Shack with hunched shoulders, slamming the door behind the length of her cloak.

Ginny's eyes were bright with indignant anger, but it was nothing compared to Fleur's icy stare. They faced off silently for a moment before the older witch said, "If you 'ave a problem, say so now. Otherwise, keep your mouth shut."

"How could you betray Bill like this, Fleur!" Ginny's voice was nearing a shriek, "I thought that marriage would change you, but," she spat at Fleur's feet, "I guess you'll never be anything better than a whore."

Fleur had her wand out and pointing at the red-headed girl's throat in one quick movement.

"You speak of betrayal? Ze only traitor in this room is you, Ginevra. You and your friends turned your backs on someone who gave up all of ze beauty and vigor in 'er life so your fiancé could destroy Voldemort. You are probably going to 'ave a family soon while she's been put on a little shelf to collect dust. Call me whatever you wish, but go near 'ermione for my actions, I will make sure you get some scars of your own. Do you understand?"

Ginny looked like she wanted to snap Fleur's neck, but couldn't risk one false move with the woman's wand at her throat. So instead, she gave a curt nod, shaking with anger.

" i Bon /i . Now go 'ome before 'ermione decides to come back inside and rearrange your internal organs, hmn?"

With an infuriated glare, Ginny Apparated away, a sharp 'pop' following her exit. Fleur let out a deep breath of relief and stepped outside to find Hermione staring off into space, opening and closing her hands methodically an in attempt to relax.

"'ermione."

The younger witch jumped, hand halfway to her wand before she realized that it was Fleur that had spoken.

"Sorry," she muttered, "Old habits."

"Zat's alright," Fleur said softly, offering Hermione a hand up.

"What did she say about me," Hermione asked after a moment's pause.

"Nothing in particular. But zat was probably because I 'ad my wand at 'er throat."

The mental image of that made Hermione crack a tiny smile, the first Fleur had seen in months. Both of them realized at that instant how close they were standing again, but this time Hermione turned her head and mumbled that they 'should probably go somewhere more private before something like that happened again'.

"We, uh," she said, voice now above a whisper, "could go to my house if that's alright."

Hermione's words shook a little and were filled with both embarrassment and a deep fear of rejection and Fleur gave her a reassuring smile.

"I wouldn't mind zat at all. But perhaps we could Apparate this time rather than wearing ourselves out running."

The left side of Hermione's face turned pink, but she nodded and said with a raised eyebrow, "Race you there."

She disappeared with a tiny 'pop', leaving Fleur behind with a scandalized expression.

When Fleur appeared in front of her a few seconds later, Hermione was hiding a grin.

"Zat was not fair."

"Sorry," Hermione said, looking down at the ground.

"There's no need to 'ide your smile, 'ermione. It is not something I don't think anyone 'as seen you do in a long time."

"Yeah…I guess not."

Hermione realized then that they were standing in her doorway and dropped the wards with a nervous apology. She walked inside after Fleur, closing the door quietly. The blush on her face from before reappeared, but the French witch grabbed her hand, forcing her to look up.

"Maybe we could talk?"

Hermione nodded and Vanished the coffee cups, turning back to Fleur and asking, "Do you want anything to drink?"

"Something stronger than coffee might be a good idea."

Hermione searched through cabinets with slightly shaking hands before pulling out a large orange bottle of Firewhisky and two shot glasses, placing them on the table. She sat down only to fall to the floor with a crash, having forgotten that she had knocked over the chair before running after Fleur.

"'ermione, are you alright?"

Fleur got up from her seat quickly and helped a very flustered Hermione to her feet, righting the chair with a smile.

"Yeah," Hermione mumbled, sitting down with a furiously red face, "Thanks."

The other woman sat down across from her, pouring out the Firewhisky. She suspected that Hermione would have dropped the bottle with her shaking hands, and thought it best to avoid an accident.

"I-…um," Hermione started.

Fleur shook her head, holding up one of the shot glasses. "Drink first."

Hermione took the glass with pale hands and downed the alcohol quickly. A harsh breath escaped her as she put down the empty tumbler down, eyes flicking up to gaze at Fleur's calm features.

"I'm sorry for acting this way, but I've never done anything like…that before."

Hermione gestured to her own lips, and then looked down at the table.

"In general, or with a woman?"

"No, I've kissed before. Viktor and-," Hermione switched tracks mid-sentence, "No, never with a woman."

"It's different, isn't it?"

Fleur's words made her blush, but she said, "Yes. Very different. But not," Hermione stumbled over her next words, "not in a bad…not in a bad way."

"Zat's good to know."

"You made me feel like-" Hermione put her head in her hands, "I thought I was straight. I didn't know I…"

Fleur waited for her to finish her sentence but when no other words came, reached out to touch Hermione's hand, fingers gently resting on her knuckles.

"You don't 'ave to defend yourself, 'ermione. I probably shouldn't have told you like I did."

"No, no, it's alright. I…Merlin, I've never felt like this before. It felt so good, so right."

"There's nothing wrong with liking someone of your own gender."

"In Muggle society, it's not the most accepted thing."

Hermione's voice shook when she imagined what her parents would have thought of their daughter kissing another woman.

"To wizards, it is…privately accepted. Not something you advertise, but you are not 'ung out to dry by your family. Some purebloods are ze exception, because they are in dire need of 'eirs, but in France," Fleur smiled a little, "It is common to 'ave both men and women by your side."

"R-really? I never read anything about that-" Hermione began, but Fleur tapped her knuckles with a manicured nail.

"As I said, it is not advertised."

"Does your family know?"

Fleur sighed. " i Oui /i , but they have not forgiven me from abandoning 'ome to 'elp fight against Voldemort, so I could not see them now. Family is supposed to be more important than anything, but," she sighed, "crimes of passion are forgiven in France.

If a woman killed 'er 'usband's mistress out of love, she would probably spend ze rest of 'er life under 'ouse arrest rather than rotting in prison. If my countrymen can forgive zat, my family will someday excuse my own passions."

Hermione could tell she was homesick, but quite sure in her predictions about her family.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Non, ma cherie. It truly is alright. At ze moment, you matter more to me than going 'ome."

"I don't deserve-…I'm not worth that much, Fleur."

"I think so."

"No!" Hermione stood up, tears gathered in the functioning duct on the left side of her face. "I'm not! No one can even look at me anymore, much less love me."

She broke down sobbing, fists pressed harshly into the table. Her entire body shook as she whispered, "It's not possible."

"'ermione, please…"

The crying teenager pulled down her hood so far the fabric tore.

"Look!" She clawed at her right cheek, "Look! This matches what's inside now. You stared, just like everyone else!"

"I'm s…ah!" Fleur cried out, the tumbler in her hand shattering with her tense grip. The glass cut into her hand, and blood quickly pumped out of the large abrasions.

"Oh, gods, Fleur…"

Hermione's face went pale as she went over to Fleur, casting a healing spell quickly and Summoning a towel to clean up the blood. She cleaned up the older witch's hand, gasping out apologies in between sobs.

"Stop apologizing, 'ermione. It wasn't your fault. It was an accident."

"It is my fault! It's all my fault," Hermione said, voice hollow, "If I hadn't been so stupid. You wouldn't lie about something like love…I know that, I should have known that. You wouldn't stare on purpose…you wouldn't."

Fleur stopped her by putting a pale finger to the girl's lips.

"No, I would not. But I do apologize for doing so. Now," the woman kissed Hermione on the forehead, "why don't we sit down on ze couch so you can calm down. If you don't slow down your breathing, you are going to pass out."

Fleur gently led Hermione over to the brown leather couch in the room next to the kitchen and helped her sit down. The teenager shook and collapsed against the older woman, on the edge of hyperventilating.

"'ermione, calm down. Please. Deep breaths, in and out. In and out."

The girl did her best to obey, and after a few moments that seemed like an eternity, was finally breathing normally. With so much weight being lifted from her shoulders, Hermione slowly relaxed into Fleur's arms and for the first time in months, let herself feel at peace.


	4. Chapter 4

"'ermione."

Fleur looked down at the quietly sleeping girl in her arms, having just woken up herself seconds before. From the light she saw streaming into the kitchen, she realized that they had collapsed for the better part of a day and a night. But she didn't see that as a bad thing. It was surely the most Hermione had slept in weeks, if not months.

"Wake up, i ma cherie /i ."

Hermione woke up with a scream of pain, and Fleur's knee-jerk reaction almost knocked the girl to the floor. The teenager was scratching her face with rough nails, but Fleur grabbed her wrists and pulled down. Hermione eyes opened dangerously wide, her breath ragged.

"Fleur…oh…gods…I thought you…Bellatrix…"

"Shh, 'ermione. It's alright."

She slowly relaxed her grip on Hermione's wrists, and was relieved when the younger witch kissed her on the cheek. Fleur did not protest when Hermione's mouth met with hers after a brief moment of thought, quite content as the tension she had feared would crop up the… 'morning after', to use the common phrase, was practically non-existent.

A few moments and several searing kisses later, Hermione pulled away from a smiling Fleur to say, "I hate to stop," she blushed a little, "really, but I am beyond starving."

"When was ze last time you ate?"

"To be honest?"

"I would 'ope so."

"I…don't really remember."

Fleur made a flustered sound and stood up in a graceful motion, her fingers linked with the other woman's.

"You 'ave to stay 'ealthy. Go sit down in ze kitchen and I will make you some breakfast."

When the younger witch opened her mouth to protest, Fleur shook her head to quiet her.

"Be our relationship one of lovers or friends, I will not let you forget your 'ealth. Please let me do this for you, 'ermione."

She looked more embarrassed than annoyed at Fleur's words, and mumbled a response amounting to 'alright' and 'you don't have to'. Lovers? Hermione had never thought of it that way. They had kissed and…she felt it become rather hard to swallow when she thought of Fleur's mouth against her scars. That good feelings could come out of such a debilitating incident made Hermione let a tiny spark of hope float up into her chest.

She followed Fleur and sat down; checking out of paranoia to make sure the chair was actually upright. The Frenchwoman hummed a tune Hermione didn't recognize and turned to ask, "What would you like?"

"Eggs and toast, if it's not too much trouble."

Fleur nodded and made several gestures with her wand, plates promptly appearing on the table with silverware and a patterned cup filled almost to the brim with coffee. A small silver creamer and shaker full of sugar joined them a few seconds later. Hermione tipped in some sugar and enough cream to turn the coffee a warm caramel color, taking a sip a moment later and sighing in pleasure at the taste.

"You make great coffee, Fleur."

She smiled at Hermione and conjured a cup for herself before sitting at the table. Fleur used a fork to shift eggs and pieces of slightly burnt toast onto two different plates, making a face when she saw the dark edges of the bread.

"Damn, I can never get zat spell right."

"It's perfect. Don't worry."

Hermione cut into the white of her egg with the side of her fork and muttered a curse when she punctured the yolk. She spooned the gooey remains of her egg onto a piece of toast and took a bite, suddenly realized how starving she was. Fleur raised an eyebrow as Hermione wolfed down the rest in a matter of minutes.

She looked up from her plate, feeling completely mortified when she saw that Fleur had only taken a couple bites of her breakfast.

"Sorry. I guess it's been a while since I've had a proper meal."

"It's alright, 'ermione. Do you want more?"

"Yes, please."

Fleur pointed her wand at Hermione's plate and calmly said the incantation. Two more eggs, both sunny side up, and a small stack of slightly burnt toast appeared, and they shared a smile.

"Thank you," Hermione said a moment later, "I don't think I've had someone make me breakfast in years."

"I don't think anyone 'as let me make them breakfast in years. My mother would never let me, and at school, ze elves cooked everything."

Hermione remembered S.P.E.W. and the small crusade that followed and felt a pang of sadness because she hadn't seen Hogwarts since the beginning of the war. She must have been staring off into space, because she jumped a little when Fleur touched her hand.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, just thinking. I haven't seen Hogwarts in such a long time, and I live on the edge of the village next to it."

"If you don't mind, perhaps we could go into 'ogsmeade today and look at ze Christmas decorations. Afterwards we could go up to ze castle."

"Christmas?" Hermione's eyes were wide.

"It's on Sunday. You didn't know?"

She shook her head, bewildered. "I haven't been keeping track of the months. And," Hermione reached out to stroke Fleur's cheek, "No, I wouldn't mind going into the village with you. Ginny can burn in hell for all I care."

"Zat is what I like to 'ear."

A knock at the door startled both of them and Hermione stood up to answer it. She looked through the peephole and smiled a little before opening the door. Remus and Tonks stepped inside, covered in snowflakes. Tonks almost knocked Hermione to the floor with her hug, apologies for not visiting her sooner coming a mile a minute.

"I think you're choking her, darling." Remus said with a little grin, though it changed to a look of surprise when he saw Fleur.

"So this is what Ginny was jumping up and down about."

Hermione frowned. "What did she say?"

Tonks made a face. "She sent owls to everyone she's known since birth screaming some nasty rubbish about you and Fleur. I don't know, Remus, does Hermione look like she's been dancing with the devil?"

Fleur made a noise of amusement and Hermione muttered, "Merlin, what did we do to her?"

"Apparently she has some prejudices about those who prefer their own gender to the opposite."

"You two don't care?"

"Of course not!" Tonks said, "Remus and I thought she was lying about seeing you and Fleur, but whether or not it's true, we still care for you. Nothing would change that."

"You suffered more than most in the war, Hermione. I think people have forgotten that."

That was the second time in two days she had heard that and it was a little disorienting. Hermione motioned for Remus and Tonks to sit down, pulling out her wand to Summon two more chairs. She went back to her seat and took a long sup of her coffee.

"Any particular reason you showed up out of nowhere besides Ginny's letter?"

"Well, Harry sent us a note a couple days ago and asked us to try and get you out of the house. We wanted to invite you over tomorrow night, to eat and maybe decorate the tree Remus got last night. Fleur can come if you'd like."

Fleur spoke up at that moment, looking slightly amused.

"I assume Miss Weasley will not be there."

"She…" Remus started, "Politely declined when we told her you might be joining us. But Harry said he would try and sneak away. He really misses Hermione."

The teenager nodded and took another drink off her coffee before asking, "How's Professor McGonagall? Last time I heard anything, she was still in St. Mungo's."

"Minerva's recovered very well, although she does reach for her walking stick more often than she used to. When Hogwarts re-opens next year, she will be the Headmistress. She also invited me to be her deputy."

"That's great, Remus." Hermione smiled.

There was an uncomfortable pause before Tonks said, "You don't have to wear that hood around us, Hermione. Scars don't make you a horrible person."

"I'd hope not," Remus murmured, hand subconsciously going to the ones on his face.

The silence that followed was halted when Fleur and Tonks gave each other slightly panicked looks. They were quite aware that the conversation was really not going the intended way, and Fleur ended the awkward moment by suggesting, "'ermione, perhaps you and Remus should go for a walk to catch up on old times. I don't want our presence," she gestured to Tonks vaguely, "To interrupt your reminiscing."

Hermione gave her a very odd look but shrugged and said, "Well, how about it, Remus?"

He smiled and nodded, apparently wanting to end the tension in the room as much as Fleur and Tonks. Remus waited for her to stand, and started talking about the empty posts they had at Hogwarts as they walked out the door, seemingly grabbing the first thought that came to mind and transforming it into conversation.

Once the door was shut, Tonks sat down at the table and put her face in her hands, looking up at Fleur a moment later. She massaged the bridge of her nose to stave off a looming headache before muttering, "Damn, I can't keep up anymore."

"What do you mean by zat?"

"They're very similar, don't you think? Logical, the majority of the brain cells between their friends, and treated like scum because of something they had control over."

"Yes. Perhaps they would have even been lovers in another universe, but that does not explain your previous comment."

Tonks flushed a little bit.

"I just meant that sometimes I feel like I can't talk to Remus about certain things, because of his," she struggled for a word, "condition. I'm not sure how long you've been around Hermione, but from the owl Remus received from Viktor Krum detailing her status, I'm pretty sure there has probably been some yelling and general rage when it comes to what happened."

"Viktor was visiting her?"

The pink-haired woman nodded, responding with, "He loves her, he really does. But when he tried to take care of her, she eventually couldn't deal with it. I think she's tired of being treated like a charity case by her friends and like a plague by those with less of a pleasant opinion."

"Would you get tired of zat as well?"

"Yeah, I would. But I just want her to come out of her den, rather than hiding under a rock near Hogsmeade and ignoring all but a handful of people."

"As do I. But I also believe she needs some time to adjust to the fact that someone she loathed for three years of her life in 'ead over 'eels in love with 'er."

"That would certainly take more than a minute."

Fleur laughed softly. "Yes, but I have 'ope that she'll come to terms with it."

"I know you were there…well, at least near her when she was scarred."

"We shared a cold prison cell while ze ones we loved died and went down one false path after another."

Tonks winced at the cool tone of Fleur's words, not having meant to offend her.

"I just…what I was trying to say, is that you saw her change. Is there any chance of getting the old Hermione back?"

"To be 'onest?"

"Yeah."

"I don't want ze old 'ermione back. I fell in love with 'er as she changed and 'owever painful, what happened those nights when she was tortured is now a part of 'er, and I would not take away the pieces of someone I loved for my own convenience."

Tonks was very quiet when Fleur finished, and spent the next few moments staring at the floor, embarrassed at what she had said in front of the French witch. She guessed she was just as clumsy with words as she was with furniture. Damn it all to hell.

"Merlin, I don't even know how to say what I want to say."

"Zat is often the case in circumstances like this."

"But not for you. You knew what was coming."

"When I told her zat I loved 'er, I truly 'ad no idea what was going to 'appen. But when she didn't slap me and run away, the rest just fell into place. I knew zat what had happened during ze war would certainly come into play if we 'ad a relationship, either as friends or lovers."

"If you don't mind me asking, which is it?"

Fleur had a peculiar smile when she said, "We've kissed."

"It's more than that."

"Quite. But it's up to 'ermione how she wishes to shape our relationship, if she wants one at all."

"You want to be with her."

"Of course. I love 'er dearly, but zat does not mean she feels the same way, or even wants me to be in 'er house."

"I thought the French were all about passion and obsessive love."

"Ah, i oui /i ," Fleur smiled, "But we also know zat is important to be patient with ze one you adore, for risk of losing them forever. More than one maiden 'as waited for 'er 'usband to return for years on end without losing faith in their love. I will always be there for 'ermione, if she needs me. If she does not, I will not toss away my love out of frustration or a foolish passion."

"You're wise as hell for your age, Fleur."

"I believe you are not zat much older than me."

"Maybe not, but I'm grasping for straws on how to show the man I love that I love him, while you seem to have a plan and the keys for the heart of the one you love."

"I 'ave no key. It would be suicide for 'ermione to just open up at my words. I would be Pandora with 'er little box, and suffer for it. She just needs someone to tell 'er everything will be alright, even if she doesn't believe it, and someone to 'old 'er leash when all zat anger inside her boils up. She just needs a person in her life that cares enough to take," she paused thinking of the English words, "collateral damage whenever she has to break down and build 'erself up again."

"You've thought about this a long time, haven't you?"

"I had all the time in the world when I waited for her to return from the dungeons every night in that cell."

Tonks sighed, looking guilty. "I can't imagine the hell you and her went through."

"Ze hell was watching 'er come back every night with something else missing."

The sound of the door opening made both women jump and they turned around to see Hermione and Remus both covered in snow. Under her hood, the Gryffindor girl was smiling, and Fleur felt a surge of joy. Remus looked a little disoriented, and Hermione laughed when he mumbled, "Snowball fight."

Tonks burst out laughing and stood up to kiss the man she loved, and Fleur was shocked to see that Hermione had actually done something not out of surprise or rage, but out of spontaneous happiness. She stood up and Hermione walked across the room to step into her arms where they kissed gently.

"I thought you were going on a walk."

"We were, but then I had a flashback to all the fun everyone had when it was Christmas at Hogwarts. There's nothing like the expression of someone who's just been interrupted with a snowball."

"I'm glad you're feeling better."

"It's because of you."

"Really now?" Fleur beamed.

"Well, at least that's what I think."

"Zat is good to know."

They looked at Tonks locked into a tight embrace with Remus and Hermione said, "We'd love to come to dinner tomorrow. But if you two don't mind, I think I'd like to spend the rest of today with Fleur."

Remus had a knowing smile on his face. "Of course, Hermione. We'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye, you two." Tonks looked at Fleur for a moment, who seemed bewildered with delight at this new part of Hermione.

" i Aurevoir /i ."

Remus and Tonks walked outside, their departure signaled by joint popping sounds.

Fleur kissed Hermione softly, and when no protest met her lips, they forgot all about the open front door, losing themselves in each other in quiet abandon. The winter would not be so cold, not today.


	5. Chapter 5

"Do you still want to go out and look at ze Christmas decorations, 'ermione?"

It was now the start of the evening and they had just finished dinner at a small Italian restaurant in one the Wizarding quarters in London. Two empty plates, once filled with linguine, crowded the small oak table. Fleur swirled the white wine in her glass out of playful idleness, looking across at Hermione, who was staring out the frosted window, hood stubbornly up.

Fleur couldn't really blame her. She allowed Hermione's explanation of not wanting to be recognized in the streets to pass, but knew it was the old self-disgust rising to the surface. When the server came to ask them if they desired anything else, Hermione gestured absentmindedly at her empty goblet. The earthy wine he delicately poured was deliciously strong to Fleur's senses, and she caught Hermione's hand when it reached to pick up the wooden cup.

She was jarred out of her quiet street-gazing and jumped a little, but managed to keep the goblet from tipping. Looking down at Fleur's hand, she asked, "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I asked if you still would like to see ze decorations. Zat, and I would like to steal a sip of your wine."

"Yes, to both counts," Hermione said with a small smile.

Fleur put down her own glass and gently took Hermione's goblet, taking a small swallow of the dark red wine within. It was strong on her tongue, and she quietly wondered how drunk Hermione was after three glasses of this. But when she looked into the girl's eyes, she saw no sign of intoxication or confusion, just a quiet calm.

They sat there, with locked gazes, until that annoyance of a server (at least in Fleur's mind), returned to intrude upon their intense, anticipatory looks. He presented the tab with an inked quill, and went off to go bother other couples in the depths of peace.

When Fleur reached to pay, Hermione caught her fingers and shook her head, a tiny smirk on her lips.

"I'll take care of it."

" i Non /i . I was ze one who invited you, and by French tradition, the one who invites, pays."

A playful gleam went into Hermione's eyes.

"I'll just put it some place where you can't find it and pay it when you're not looking."

"Now, what exact place would zat be?"

The thoughts that went through both of their minds at that turn of phrase was enough to make Hermione bite her lower lip and a tiny blush to cross Fleur's cheeks. At the same time, they reached for the receipt once more, only to catch each other's hands rather than the quill and paper.

"At least let me pay half, Fleur."

Fleur raised an amused eyebrow, and shook her head. "No, i ma cherie /i . Let me take care of you. It is not such a bad thing to have someone at your back, no?"

Hermione reluctantly pulled her hand away and let Fleur sign off on the receipt, writing the number of her vault in Gringotts so they could take it directly from her account without a lot of coins changing hands. She turned from the Frenchwoman to finish up the last of her wine, not feeling the least bit drunk despite its obvious potency.

"Are we just going to wander ze streets, or would you like to look at the decorations at 'ogsmeade?"

Hermione said, a little too quickly, "The streets are fine."

Fleur nodded, knowingly and stood up. Hermione's eyes were riveted to the silver dress the older woman had Flooed to her small place in London for. It was distracting, scintillating in the candlelight, and at the sigh of the fabric cut to the small of her back when Fleur turned around, Hermione was quite entranced. A little demon in her head wanted to be bitter and spit at such beauty, but she crushed it with the memories of Fleur's gentle lips on hers.

Part of her did still feel a little inadequate, though. She was still in the thick cloak and hood, wearing a black silk blouse and skirt. It was more practical than good-looking, with the exception of the soft cloth it was made from. Hermione stood up, noticing more than a few pairs of eyes lingering as the mysterious figure in the hood left with the stunning woman in silver. They made an…unique couple, that was sure.

But a couple of whats? She smiled a little and opened the door for Fleur, noticing the Frenchwoman shivering instantly at the chill. The scarf she had brought was nowhere enough to cover the flesh exposed, and Hermione brought her under her cloak as they began to walk down the cobbled street.

Wizards did Christmas decorations in a way Muggles could not, that was for sure. Tiny golden fairy lights and dancing glass baubles were put up in between tinsel that changed colors from moment to moment. A huge tree took up most of the square they were walking into, all of the branches decorated with flashing ornaments.

"It is all so beautiful, don't you think?"

Hermione bit her lip to keep the cliché response on the tip of her tongue from escaping. She knew that saying 'that's not the only thing that's beautiful' would make her look like a fool in front of Fleur, and that was truly one of the last things she wanted to do. Instead, she stopped and pulled Fleur close, the Frenchwoman's body obscured by the heavy cloth of the cloak.

"Yes. Almost beautiful enough to make me say something idiotic in front of the gorgeous woman walking next to me."

"I doubt zat would 'appen."

"What?"

"You saying something idiotic. It is certainly not a common trait of yours."

"It would have been bad enough to stick into a cheap Muggle romance movie."

"Now you are speaking in tongues."

"Oh," Hermione flushed a little, "A movie. It's like the pictures wizards take. The people in it talk and move around and live. Except it's all up on a big screen in a dark room, and you have to pay too much money to see it."

"We must see one sometime. I think such a preposterous thing would be worth ze Galleons."

Fleur smiled at Hermione and leaned down to kiss her, expecting the tension in the younger woman's shoulders at the thought of such behavior in public. But she saw a minute struggle in the Gryffindor's eyes, and a glint in amber orbs when Hermione realized she didn't give a damn. She accepted Fleur's lips in a gentle kiss, only pulling away when they almost both stumbled over the edge of her cloak.

Hermione instantly flushed several shades of red, but Fleur saw the humiliation in her eyes when she whispered, "That wouldn't have happened if I didn't always wear this damned thing…"

"You may wear whatever you like, 'ermione. And if someone has ze gall to say something about it, they will have to deal with ze claws of a Veela."

She knew the 'it' was much more than her style of dress, and lay her head against Fleur's chest, letting out a breath of relief when gentle hands worked their way through the thick curls of her hair in a quiet, comforting motion. Hermione's hands slid around the French-woman's hips, pulling her that last inch closer.

When she felt Fleur's fingers playing along her spine, Hermione looked up and murmured, "Maybe we should go back to my flat. By Murphy's law, Ginny will show up here in a couple of minutes screaming hellfire and damnation."

"If zat is your wish."

"It is."

"You 'ave no idea 'ow much I wanted to 'ear zat."

Hermione's eyes were alight with joy as she pulled Fleur close and using the convenient magic that was Side-Along Apparition, brought the two of them to her home with their arms around each other. As they made their way, interrupted by heated kisses and hesitant touches, to Hermione's bedroom, Fleur grabbed both of her lover's hands and asked softly, "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes. More than I've been sure about anything for a long time."

Fleur answered her with a French curse, most likely in reaction to Hermione's hand slipping from the older woman's hip to the curve of her thigh. The thick fog of lust settled into piercing cobalt eyes as Fleur pushed Hermione down onto the soft cotton sheets of the bed, pinning the Gryffindor's hands down against the mattress. In the gasp that followed, Fleur whispered, 'I love you' just loud enough for Hermione to hear.


	6. Chapter 6

The next evening found Hermione and Fleur in front of 12 Grimmauld Place. They were holding hands, grips tight enough to bruise. Neither of them seemed to mind, and when Remus opened up the door, Hermione even risked a smile under her hood. Fleur had asked her not to wear it that morning in gentle, soothing tones, but the Gryffindor had refused with a growl in her tone. A moment later, Hermione had apologized for her anger, and promised to take it off once they got inside the house.

True to her word, Hermione undid the clasp at her throat and a happy but surprised Tonks took it from her, hanging it on one of the racks near the door. Fleur felt a wave of relief calm her senses and, almost apologetically, loosened her vise-like hold on the younger girl's hand. Hermione responded by kissing her lover's hand and wandering into the kitchen, allowing Fleur to be instantly accosted by Remus.

"How did you pull that off?"

"Excuse me?" Fleur raised a curious eyebrow.

"Hermione was bothered by taking her hood down around us, much less taking off the whole cloak and keeping it in another room."

"It is 'er form of an apology, I suppose. But she could be gaining more confidence now zat she's no longer in solitude."

"What would she have to apologize for?"

"She snapped at me this morning. It was not unexpected."

Remus paused for a moment, as if weighing his next words. Then he asked the question Fleur knew had been coming.

"You spent the night?"

"I do not really see how zat is any of your business, Remus," Fleur felt a little twinge of guilt in the fact that she could not keep a smile off of her face, "But yes, I did."

"I won't pry any more." Remus looked her right in the eyes, pain suddenly etched in his features, "Take care of her, Fleur. For all of our sakes. I…none of us have been able to get through to her since the end of the War."

"You 'ave my promise." Fleur said quietly. "But perhaps we should go into ze kitchen before they have all of ze fun without us."

"Of course."

Hermione looked up from her seat at the table at Fleur's approach, pulling out the chair next to her in a silent offer. The Frenchwoman smiled and sat next to her, and their hands joined underneath the table.

At that moment, Minerva McGonagall came in from another room, walking stick clutched firmly in her right hand. Her gait, however, was not compromised by the injuries that had placed her in the hospital, and Fleur saw raw relief soften Hermione's expression at the sight of her mentor and old Head of House.

"Professor!"

Minerva sat down across from them and intoned, "Hermione, you're an adult now and one of my best students. Please, call me Minerva."

That seemed to disorient Hermione for a moment, and Fleur knew it would probably be a while before she got used to calling her Professor by first name alone.

"Of course," Hermione recovered quickly, "When did you get out of St. Mungo's?"

"Just this morning. The Healers wanted to keep me for Christmas, but I wouldn't have any of that. Remus told me you might be here tonight, and I wanted to make sure nothing had happened to you."

Hermione's lip quivered for a moment as she thought of her scars bare to the light, but the fact that Minerva had not even mentioned them was calming. Swallowing down the unwelcome tears, she forced a little bit of a smile and said, "I have someone taking care of me now."

Fleur blushed at the flattering words, and wanted to kiss Hermione right then and there, but imagined her younger lover being mortified at such behavior in front of the stern woman sitting across from them.

Obviously someone had informed Minerva of their fledgling relationship, because she reached over the table and touched Hermione's hand before murmuring, "I'm glad you found someone. Though I did not expect it would be Miss Delacour."

"I doubt zat anyone would think I would be attracted to 'ermione. I used to have ze wind whistling through my ears."

"The war changed everything." Hermione said softly, forcing her free hand to stay still rather than reach up and touch her cheek.

At that moment, Tonks came into the room with a tray of Christmas cookies and a very familiar face behind her. Hermione stood up in her chair, fingers slipping from Fleur's, and ran to embrace a dark-haired man with a slightly apprehensive expression .

"Harry, I didn't think you would be able to come!"

He wrapped arms tight around her, as if making sure she was solid rather than a ghost come to haunt him. With Hermione calmly buried into the shoulder of his jacket, the tension drained out of Harry's face. He looked across the room at Fleur, and mouthed the words 'thank you'.

Fleur gave a small bow at the neck, and Hermione looked at Harry, worry etched into her features.

"You don't care…that I…"

"Of course not, Hermione. Who you like, or don't, is your business." He kissed the top of her head. "And I've talked to Ginny. She apologized for overreacting and let me come here tonight. I was pretty glad about that, considering my previous plan was to fly my Firebolt out the window."

Remus came into the kitchen and said, "Now that everyone's here, maybe we can all sit down and drink some eggnog. How does that sound?"

Everyone made noises of assent and moved to sit down at the table. Tonks, placing the tea tray lined with plates of cookies down, knocked over the white roses in the center of the table with several apologies. Minerva pulled her wand and siphoned away the water, putting the vase upright with a small smile.

Remus Summoned the eggnog and several glasses from the kitchen cabinets onto the dark wood of the table. Harry sat down on Hermione's right, and Fleur took custody of her lover's hand once more, gently caressing the knuckles with a fingertip. It had more of an effect than Fleur suspected, and a little flush colored Hermione's left cheek as she bit her lip. The Frenchwoman noted that reaction in the back of her mind and stopped that tiny movement, a lustful twinkle in her eyes.

As Harry poured the eggnog into the glasses Remus had placed in front of him, he looked at Hermione and whispered, "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

The female Gryffindor felt something pierce her heart and promptly twist. Hermione hadn't realized that her solitude would affect as many people as it had. At the time, she had been sure no one would want to see her, hooded or otherwise. She was too bitter, too angry.

"I'm sorry I hid for so long."

"It's not your fault. We were all a bunch of fools, treating you like we did. I'm surprised you were able to evade the media as well as you did, though I'm happy you managed to pull that off."

"The lone reporter that managed to find my address and show up at my doorstep ran away screaming."

"Why?"

"Apparently plastic Muggle fangs have their uses."

Harry chuckled and handed her a glass of eggnog. Hermione took a sip and watched Fleur talking to Minerva out of the corner of her eye. She suddenly felt an echo low in her body of the pleasure Fleur had given her last night, and suppressed a shudder. Years ago, there was no way she would have ever pictured herself begging Fleur for anything, much less for sexual favors. Nor had Hermione ever thought she love this beautiful witch, or that Fleur would save her from herself as she had.

In her musings, she had apparently missed what Harry was saying, and at his look of confusion, quickly said, "I'm sorry. What did you just say?"

"You really love her, don't you?"

"I know that's not what you said, but yes, I do."

Fleur squeezed her hand. Obviously she had been eavesdropping, but Hermione didn't mind in the least.

A knock at the door stopped the story-swapping and idle conversation, and Hermione got out of her chair. Fleur followed suit, and the Frenchwoman informed the table they would be happy to answer it. Remus raised an eyebrow, and Hermione blushed furiously.

When they were alone out in the foyer, the Gryffindor murmured, "I thought Remus said that everyone had gotten here."

"Perhaps he was mistaken."

Hermione made to move towards the door when there was another knock, but Fleur gripped her wrist tightly. She whimpered in confusion, and the Frenchwoman gestured up at the ceiling.

"Mistletoe." Hermione whispered.

" i Oui /i ."

When Fleur pulled her into a passionate kiss, she didn't even consider protesting. A playful bite to Hermione's lower lip made her moan softly, and both of them were oblivious to the sound of the door opening. Pulling away reluctantly, Hermione was smiling until she turned and looked into the pale and shocked face of Ron.

"R-Ron! What are you…doing here?" Hermione stumbled over her words and ended her sentence lamely, horrified that he had caught them in such a position.

He blinked once, and realized there had just been a question asked.

"Ginny told me Remus had invited me to a Christmas party here."

Fleur's hand was a comforting presence on her shoulder, and Hermione said, "Oh. So…I guess you know about her and me?"

"No offense, Hermione, but I think a lot of people do. Ginny sent an army of owls out the second she got home. But, I thought about it for a while, and…it's okay. I just never thought you would ever…be with Fleur. Of all people."

"We appreciate your maturity, Ronald." Fleur said from behind Hermione, who had let out a deep breath in relief.

He offered his open arms in a hug, and Fleur removed her hand, allowing the younger girl to wrap her arms around her old friend. Ron seemed a little tense, but that wasn't really surprising how he had found them together. Hermione kissed his cheek and the three of them trooped into the kitchen.

Remus and Tonks looked rather unsure of what was going on, but covered it as fast as they could. Hermione made a vague gesture for Remus to come over, and they stood together by the counter, talking under their breath.

"Did you invite him?" Hermione asked softly.

"Ginny told me he had disowned you as a friend the second he found about you and Fleur."

"He told me Ginny told him you had invited him, Remus."

"Something's going on here. But for now, if you're comfortable with it, we can just go on with the party and find out what's going on later."

"Of course. I don't mind his company, I just hadn't expected him to catch Fleur and I kissing, much less accept it."

"Why were you kissing?"

"Someone put up mistletoe."

Remus smiled. "I wouldn't be surprised if Tonks was trying to bring a little light into this house by doing that."

"How did you get Grimmauld Place anyways?"

"After the war, we didn't need headquarters for the Order, and Harry didn't want to raise a family here. Too many memories."

"I can understand that."

"Should we go back to the table before Ron thinks he's unwelcome."

"Alright."

They both sat down at their respective places, and the night passed without interruption or hitch. Everyone was in high spirits, and Hermione turned red when they proposed a toast to her. A moment of silence followed for the victims of the war and then everything was peaceful. Fleur didn't let go of Hermione's hand for a single second.

-------------

When Fleur and Hermione got back to the Hogsmeade flat at around three in the morning, they were slightly tipsy on several glasses. They went into the bedroom and Fleur burst out laughing when the younger girl tripped over the bed in the near-dark. The Frenchwoman was quickly silenced when Hermione pulled her onto the sheets and proceeded to kiss Fleur senseless.

"I love you," Hermione whispered into Fleur's throat a few heated moments later, holding her lover tight against her chest.

"I love you too, Hermione."

And part of the Gryffindor could swear, right before she fell into a blissful sleep, she heard the soft click of a camera.


	7. Chapter 7

The strangest of noises woke Hermione from her surprisingly peaceful slumber. She smiled at the sight of a quietly sleeping Fleur next to her, and kissed her lover on the top of the head. But even the sight of the stunning Frenchwoman wasn't enough to excuse the fact that something that resembled both banging and yelling had woken her up at the ungodly hour of 6 AM. Back in her school days, she had always gotten up early, but the present Hermione had been constantly mentally exhausted and liked to sleep in.

She cursed under her breath in a small stream of Latin. Hermione thought it was better to curse, if one had to, when no one else had any idea what you were saying. She yawned and turned her body to stretch, but jumped up as the noise got louder. It was coming from outside, she knew it. Hermione picked up her wand, dressing quickly in some worn-out Muggle clothes she'd left on the dresser a few days ago, and headed to the front door, instinctively grabbing one of her spare cloaks and covering her face.

She turned the doorknob once her hood was up, and swallowed the compulsion to shriek as half a dozen cameras went off in her face. Hermione raised her wand to cast a spell before she realized that yes; they were cameras, not a horde of Death Eaters. But she still trembled at the sight of the crowd of people on her lawn. She was suddenly hit with a thousand questions, and they overlapped each other and were so loud Hermione felt as if she had just acquired some schizophrenic voices, and hoped to all the gods this was just a dream.

"Miss Granger, is it true you're having an affair with Fleur Dela-"

"Why have you been hiding from the media?"

"Where'd you get those scars, Mudblood?"

The last question echoed in her ears and she bit back a roar of absolute rage. Instead she slammed the door in their faces, which caused even more of a stir. Hermione shook with the mental onslaught she had just faced. How did they know about her scars all of a sudden? How did they know about Fleur? Instinctively, she raised the extended wards around her flat and cast a Silencing charm directed towards the door.

At that moment, Hermione heard one of the Floo security devices on her mantle start to make the annoying sounds that meant someone was trying to get inside through her fire-place. She walked over and flicked the tiny golden switch on the buzzing object, speaking directly into it.

"If I don't know you, leave before they have to shovel pieces of you out of my chimney."

The slightly strained voice of Remus met her senses, and some of the tension in her shoulders slipped away.

"Sorry, Remus."

She lifted the wards for the few seconds he needed to get inside, wand pointed at the front door out of pure paranoia. The instant Hermione saw Remus in the corner of her eye, the magical protections shot back up. She turned to him and grabbed him right by the collar, getting close enough to him almost to kiss. His eyes widened a little, but after a moment, she let him go.

"Before I explain why there are reporters clawing door your door, may I ask what the bloody hell you were just doing?"

"Polyjuice Potion is hard to remove from the breath so it can be a good way to make sure one is not an impostor. I'm…just tense. Now why are these people any where near my house! There was one reporter after the war ended, and I scared him away. What is going on?"

Remus took a paper Hermione wasn't familiar with and handed it to her. i The Wicked Witch /i , she mouthed. And then her jaw dropped. Her silent rage sent a savage chill through her veins. Hermione's hands started to tremble when she raw the picture of her and Fleur kissing on the bed, scars bared to the magic of the camera. The only saving grace was the fact that they had been clothed, but that was of little comfort.

She felt her lover come up behind her, and at the touch of Fleur's hand on her shoulder, Hermione fell to her knees and began retching. Clutching at her throat and swallowing back the taste of bile, she saw Fleur scanning the article she had dropped in her fit of sickness.

"Where did these photos come from?" Her eyes, ablaze with anger, seemed very out of place with her calm tone and relaxed features.

"Rita Skeeter." Hermione choked out, attempting to clean up the mess she had made with her wand. Remus winced sympathetically and calmly cast Scourgify.

"Zat woman who was at ze tournament all those years ago?"

"The same." Remus said gravely. He offered Hermione his hand, and she took it gratefully, standing up straight and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He continued with, "Harry told me you had found out Rita was an illegal Animagus back in fourth year and that's why she left the Daily Prophet. Is that true?"

Hermione nodded and swallowed hard before speaking.

"She can turn into a beetle. That bitch made Harry's life a mess, and she thought it was a fun idea to take a few shots at me as well. Why would she risk writing this article now, of all times? Just because she's changed newspapers doesn't mean she won't be arrested for being an illegal Animagus."

Remus paused for a moment and then said, "The paper she works for now doesn't really care about any of that. In fact, they probably pay her more because she gets the best stories. The Wicked Witch is a bunch of slanderous articles slapped together and printed to the general population. But they're not well-known. The second they got this picture, however, they probably smelled one of the best scandals in a century."

"Why me?" Hermione demanded, hands shaking as they clutched at the brooch holding her cloak shut.

"You're a member of the famous Golden Trio. You helped save the world from Voldemort. And while everyone suffered through their fifteen minutes under the quill, you disappeared. There were rumors that you were crippled physically, or insane. They must have been furious when they found out you were living under their noses."

"But 'ow did Rita get zat picture? Zat is what I do not understand."

"I don't know! And who could have even put her onto the rumor that we were together when less than a dozen people know. Who would talk to her?"

In the middle of Hermione's rant, which was slowly gaining strength, Remus paled a little bit.

"What's wrong, Remus?" The younger girl raised an eyebrow.

"Ginny."

"She wouldn't." Hermione said, muscles tensing in anger.

"Ginevra," Fleur started, "Is ze only one who reacted with anger to us, 'ermione. Even Ron seemed…neutral, at worst. Perhaps she believes she is avenging ze wrongs she imagines I 'ave done against my late 'usband. I would not be surprised if Miss Weasley told Rita you live 'ere."

"But," Hermione jabbed at another, smaller picture in the article, "This is us, leaving Grimmauld Place and holding hands. How did she get inside?"

"I…" Fleur threw up her hands in frustration, "I do not know. Perhaps she just flew in when ze door was open. Zat does not matter now. We must deal with ze pack of cameras and reporters who want some exclusive interview, or some such nonsense."

"This is private property." Hermione mumbled.

"Then I'll get Nymphadora down here to start making arrests. She's still an Auror, and hopefully they'll scatter when they get a wind law enforcement is showing up."

In the middle of all of this, the Gryffindor actually smiled. Fleur gave Hermione an odd look and the younger girl asked Remus, "Does Tonks know you call her Nymphadora when she's not around?"

He failed at repressing his smile and said simply, "No, she does not. I really would prefer to keep it that way unless you want her bounding after me every time I step after the house."

Hermione started to say something in return, but instead she gasped and promptly collapsed to the floor.

"'ermione!" Fleur kneeled quickly, and with a small noise of effort picked up the younger girl and clutched her tight, listening for a pulse.

"Fleur, use your wand. It'll be quicker to get her into the bedroom." Remus said softly, noting the tension in the older woman's muscles.

Her blue eyes narrowed and she hissed with a gesture at the fallen newspaper, "Zat is what magic 'as done. I trust my strength."

Remus nodded. "Do as you wish. I'm going to Floo Madame Pomfrey. We can trust her to be discreet."

"What about ze wards?"

"If Hermione's unconscious, all of the wards except the ones in the foundations are down."

"Then get Tonks and zat nurse. I do not want anyone breaking our windows to get a picture."

"Alright. Lay her down in the bedroom, and tell me if anything changes."

Fleur gave a curt nod and carried Hermione into the bedroom, kissing her lover on the top of the head and keeping her close against her chest. The Frenchwoman laid Hermione on the bed gently and tucked her in with slightly shaking hands. She sat down next to the younger girl and stroked her hair, face set in tight lines.

The only good thing about this, Fleur mused, was that Hermione looked completely at peace for once, her breathing slow and deep. A few locks of her hair partially obscured the scars on her cheek, and Fleur's heart twisted in a painful dilemma. After all of this, would Hermione want to be covered up in front of her lover, or still allow Fleur to see the aftermath of Bellatrix and Rodolphus' torture, even after the article?

In the quiet of the bedroom, Fleur could hear Remus speaking to a woman in the other room, but she was not close enough to tell exactly who it was. She barely suppressed her urge to jump when Hermione's eyes fluttered open, slow and lucid, as if she'd just been sleeping.

Remus had been quietly speaking to Madame Pomfrey when he heard a stomach-wrenching thud followed by Fleur's hysterical scream. He and the Healer rushed into the room, and Remus' eyes widened when he saw a large bloodstain right above the headboard of the bed.

Hermione was struggling fiercely in Fleur's grip, and viscous crimson fluid was trickling in lines down her forehead. The older woman made pleas for help rapidly in her native tongue; Remus pointed his wand at Hermione, feeling guilty as he cast the Incarcerous spell to bind her to the bed.

Hermione started sobbing when she couldn't move, and Remus had to turn away before he asked, "Fleur, what happened?"

Madame Pomfrey came from behind him and began busying herself by tending to Hermione's cracked skull, her expression grim. Fleur took a deep breath and said, voice quivering, "S-she woke up a minute ago. She was s-smiling, I think. Then 'ermione… apologized to me and slammed 'erself into ze wall. It 'appened so quickly."

"It was probably a botched suicide attempt." Madame Pomfrey said from Fleur's left.

"What?"

"Unless the wand I saw on the floor in the other room was someone else's, she didn't have a magical way to harm herself. So she resorted to Muggle methods."

"They kill themselves by hitting their heads against something?" Remus said, looking a little bewildered.

The nurse cleaned up the blood with a muttered word, and checked the tenderness of Hermione's head after another series of spells before responding with, "Only the truly desperate. Most of them overdose on Muggle medication or use a sharp object. Miss Granger would have had to hit her head enough times to either completely crush her skull or break her neck."

Fleur made a pained noise, but Madame Pomfrey continued.

"Miss Delacour, you should be relieved. If you had not stopped her from doing this a second time, she would have likely suffered permanent brain damage."

"She's been," Remus started, searching for the right words, "Very emotionally unstable since the end of the war. She's been almost strictly solitary, but that's understandable. I guess Hermione had really been on the edge and the article pushed her over it."

"Article?"

"Ze illustrious Rita Skeeter decided to plaster illicitly-taken pictures of 'ermione's scars all over a newspaper."

Madame Pomfrey sighed, her lips pursed. "Didn't anyone think to find her counseling, or have a Healer look at her for signs of depression or post-traumatic stress disorder?"

"She refused everyone's help and since Hermione's an adult, we couldn't force her to see anyone or take any tests."

"What can you do to 'elp 'er, Madame?"

"I can Apparate to St. Mungo's and get some concentrated Pepper-Up Potion to try and stabilize her mood. But in the long run, I recommend taking her somewhere calm and finding a Healer that can be on call in case of any future episodes."

Remus let out a deep breath. "Quiet won't be easy to find with that article floating around."

"Then take her out of the country and see what you can do about getting the article revoked."

"I am not sure about ze latter," Fleur said softly, "But I 'ave a small house near Bordeaux zat she can be taken to."

"I'm sure the article will be news in France too, Fleur."

She made a noise caught between amusement and annoyance. "My country is used to scandals, Remus. It will be forgotten ze moment another politician impregnates 'is Muggle mistress. Our interest in such things is intense, but relatively short-lived."

"Do you have family there?"

"They live a few miles away, but my parents and I 'ave not been on the best of terms."

Remus nodded. "Can I ask why?"

"Because I stayed 'ere rather than going back after ze war."

"Won't they be glad to see you?"

"I would 'ope. But I do not 'ave to depend on them being friendly. It is my 'ome, not a family property."

Madame Pomfrey checked Hermione's temperature and said quietly, "With all of the media around, I would not recommend telling anyone else where you're taking her."

"You can tell Tonks, Remus." Fleur murmured, "But with ze exception of Professor McGonagall and 'arry, if you can get 'im alone, keep 'er secret."

"Of course."

Fleur held back tears as she stroked Hermione's hair, watching her lover drift silently in and out of a haze. After one more spell to keep the younger girl asleep, the Healer stood up and asked Remus to come with her.

"I'll give him the addresses of some private Healers, Miss Delacour," Madame Pomfrey said, "And you can pick which one you would like to tend Hermione."

" i Merci. /i "

And then the two of them were alone. Fleur lay next to Hermione, wincing at the ropes holding her lover still. She kissed Hermione gently on the lips and let her tears pour down her face, and it took a very long time before Fleur could fall asleep, clutching at the younger girl who was whimpering softly from old nightmares.


	8. Chapter 8

Both Fleur and Hermione had woken up at a rather early hour of the morning. They tossed and turned next to each other until the younger girl groggily suggested that maybe they should go into the kitchen and make some coffee. Fleur managed to pull herself out of bed after Hermione and they collapsed on the couch next to each other, clutching a ceramic cup in their hands.

"Are you feeling better now?" Fleur said softly, staring off into nothing.

"Yeah," Hermione let out a breath in an attempt to cool her coffee, "I don't know what the hell came over me. I felt like I was in a haze. Everything was calm, and then I saw the article…something snapped. The next thing I remember is my head hurting and the ropes around me."

"Zat Healer Madame Pomfrey said it might be a good idea for us to go out of ze country until some of this settles down. I thought, if you agreed, we could go to my small home in Bordeaux for a few weeks."

"Do you really think it would make a difference?"

"In this case, I believe a change of scenery is for ze better."

"Will your parents be there?"

Fleur's hand tightened around her cup.

"No, they live further north."

"I'm sorry." Hermione grimaced. "I shouldn't have brought them up."

"It is alright." Fleur put her coffee down on the table and looked at Hermione. "So are we going or not, i mon amour /i ?"

"I'll go." Hermione let out a deep breath. "But I don't want a pack of Healers flitting in and out every ten minutes."

"One 'ealer, on call in case of emergencies."

"I'll go pack."

Hermione stood up, suddenly looking more tired than before. Fleur grabbed her wrist just as she was turning to leave for the bedroom, and the younger girl stiffened. She looked down at her lover, a tear sliding down her left cheek.

"We don't 'ave to go right now. It's seven in ze morning. I just wanted to bring it up as an option." Fleur smiled gently. "Let me make you breakfast."

"I…I'm not hungry."

"While this question may seem a little idiotic, what is wrong, 'ermione?"

"Rita Skeeter, of course. I just want to see the woman have the gall to talk to me so I can quietly hex her to oblivion."

At that moment, someone rang the doorbell, startling the younger girl. Fleur walked over to the front door and looked in the peephole. Her jaw dropped a little, but the French-woman recovered her composure quickly and said calmly, "Mon amour, sometimes I wish you would keep such things to yourself."

Hermione's eyes narrowed in anger and she hissed, "Why? You just asked me-"

"Because," Fleur interrupted, "She is right outside your door."

"What?" The younger girl sputtered. "She wouldn't dare…"

Fleur threw her hands up in response and backed away from the door, making a frustrated gesture at the front door.

"Do you wish me to answer it?"

"No," Hermione shook her head, "I'll do it."

With her face set in a frown, Hermione reached for the doorknob and turned it, yanking the door open. Fleur stood in quiet shock, flabbergasted that Hermione hadn't even put on her hood. She loved the younger girl dearly, but part of her realized that Hermione's refusal to hide herself at this moment could lead to dire consequences.

Hermione found herself looking at a slightly green Rita Skeeter. The arrogant smirk that usually graced her features had been turned into a shameless stare. From this reaction, Fleur guessed that Rita hadn't taken too close of a look at the pictures she'd snapped of her and Hermione.

"Miss G-Granger," The blonde reporter quickly tried to retain some semblance of dignity and faked a smile before saying, "What a surprise to see your…face."

Fleur saw Hermione's jaw clench in rage, but she composed a smirk of her own and put her face dangerously close to Rita's before whispering, "A surprise, is it? Why don't you come in and talk about it with us in the living room?"

Rita jerked back, almost tripping on the single step in front of the door. She adjusted her glasses and when Hermione grabbed the front of her jacket, looked like she was about to faint. The scowling girl dragged her inside the flat and slammed the door, turning the lock with a satisfying click.

"'ermione, stop!" Fleur grabbed her lover's wrist, but Hermione snarled at her and pulled away.

The enraged Gryffindor made a lunge at Rita, and the reporter fell backwards, trying to scuttle away from Hermione like a derelict crab. With a curse, Fleur stepped in front of her lover, hands clenched into fists. When Hermione tried to get around her, the older woman reacted by an instinct driven by fear and pulled out her wand, casting a Trip Jinx.

Hermione instantly stumbled, hitting the floor and having all of the air expelled from her lungs. She winced and looked up at her lover, shocked at both what Fleur had just done and from the force of slamming into a wooden floor. Fleur noted that Rita's eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets, and the reporter's rather still figure make it look like she had just been Petrified.

"Fuck…" Hermione managed to get out, her breathing shallow and pained.

"Now," Fleur let out a deep breath, "Now zat both of you 'ave calmed down, we can talk."

The chill in her lover's voice quelled the new wave of anger and indignation Hermione had been about to let out and she managed a weak nod as she got up with a noticeable wince. Rita, on the other hand, picked up the quill and pad of paper that had been dropped during her fall with shaking hands.

"Miss Skeeter, sit at ze table. I need to talk to 'ermione."

Rita nodded a little too quickly and stood up, watching warily as Fleur cast a ward over the door to keep it firmly locked. As she grabbed Hermione by the arm, the French witch looked at Rita and hissed, "And don't even think of using your Animagus abilities to get out of 'ere."

Fleur received a shaky nod and she took Hermione into the bedroom, letting go of the younger girl's arm and closing the door after both of them were inside. She watched Hermione tense up and move to look out the dirty and stained window, resting her hands on the sill as she let out a deep breath.

"I'm sorry for 'exing you, but I think, and you may correct me if I 'ave made a gross error, assaulting zat…pathetic bitch would do more damage than it 'ealed. What she did to us, to you, is beyond cruel, but 'urting her…"

"Would only hurt myself. And you." Hermione said softly, lips barely half an inch from the glass of the window.

"Please forgive me." Fleur whispered, wringing her hands.

Hermione laughed softly. "The grudges I had before I fell in love with you were foolish, and keeping one now wouldn't do anyone good."

Letting out a breath Fleur hadn't known she was holding in, the older witch strode across the room and wrapped her arms around Hermione from behind. When her shoulders scrunched up, Fleur felt guilt eating at her heart. The younger girl turned her head and kissed her love gently on the lips.

"What exactly are we going to talk to Rita about?"

"It is my 'ope zat we can convince her to pull ze article. It will not keep ze knowledge away from those who 'ave already read it, but I think it will stem ze tide."

"Then let's do it. If she gets her wits about her, she'll fly out of here at the first opportunity."

"Of course, my love."

Fleur kissed the top of Hermione's head and they went back into the living room to find Rita writing furiously, her features distorted with anger. When she looked up and saw Fleur frowning and Hermione sneering, Rita roughly flipped her notepad closed and shoved her acid-green quill back into her purse.

"You have no right to keep me here!"

"Your claws grew back," Hermione smirked, "It doesn't make a difference."

"And why is that?"

"Because," The younger girl sat down and gestured for Fleur to do the same, "You're going to give us what you just wrote and pull any further production of the article you just published."

"I won't be doing any such thing." Rita laughed. "Even after getting a face full of acid, you haven't changed. From what I heard from Draco Malfoy during the Triwizard Tournament, you slapped him hard enough to see stars. So obviously violence isn't anything new either."

Hermione paused and her eyes narrowed. "Who told you acid caused my scars? There are plenty of magical ways it could have happened."

Rita fidgeted for a few seconds before saying coolly, "I always have my sources, silly girl. Those who wish to keep themselves anonymous. So do yourself a favor and keep your nose clean before you get that fucked up too and I have to update my little photo gallery."

"Tell me before I give you some scars to match mine."

"You can't hurt me, Granger. If you even lift a damn finger in my direction, I'll splatter you all over the front page again and get some of the more conservative Aurors to come and arrest you for your indiscretion. I'm sure if select words are chosen to describe," Rita looked at Fleur and smiled, "your conduct with Miss Delacour, you'd be surprised at the extent those who espouse the law could be convinced to bend it. All for the sake of common decency, of course."

Hermione clenched her jaw, her whole body shaking as she controlled the urge to scream at Rita. Fleur gently stroked the top of Hermione's left hand and asked with a dangerous purr edging her tone, "Who is pulling your strings, Rita? Who could give you an absolute pardon from your illegal Animagus transformations and line your pockets? Because even with this article, I doubt the Wicked Witch is eager to 'and over ze Galleons."

"As if I would tell you, pretty girl. There's nothing you can offer me that my benefactor can't trump in a hot second. Besides," Rita hissed, "if I give up the game now, I lose the last of my payment, so don't even think that the article will be pulled. It's breaking world fucking records and it's my way back to the top."

"You selfish bitch."

"It pays well."

Rita stood up and Fleur jumped up, reaching for her wand.

"You don't have any ground to stand on either, Miss Delacour. You're in those pictures too. So unless you're going to curse me and allow me to prosecute you and your little girlfriend for everything you're worth, remove the wards on the door and let me live. I'll even give you the courtesy of not publishing today's little snag."

"Give me your notebook and I will dispel ze wards."

Rita licked her lower lip and smirked. "What's the magic word?"

Hermione gave her a look that screamed murderous intent but Rita was unfazed.

Fleur let out a sigh of frustration and said, "Please."

"That's a good girl." Rita chuckled and tossed the notebook at Fleur, who grudgingly raised her wand to remove the wards.

She was stopped when Hermione grabbed her wrist and growled, "Hand over the quill too, Rita. I'd bet my Auror's pension it records everything you write so you can spew it back out later."

The blonde reporter swore under her breath but roughly shoved the quill into Fleur's open hand. With a muttered word of thanks, the Frenchwoman dispelled the locking ward on the door and Rita walked out, slamming it hard behind her. That particular crash was echoed by a second and Fleur whirled around, crushing the quill in her tight grip.

Hermione had slammed both of her fists into the table and was quietly sobbing. Fleur gently rested her hands on Hermione's shoulders and Fleur was silently relieved when her lover allowed to her to bring her into the bedroom. She lay down next to Hermione on the bed and held the younger girl tight in her arms until she stopped crying.

"We need to pack." Hermione whispered, and Fleur nodded, not saying a word when Hermione fell asleep moments later.


	9. Chapter 9

Hermione closed her trunk and locked it with a quick spell from her wand. She surveyed the suitcase and other small trunk with calm satisfaction, and allowed herself a small smile when Fleur walked into the room, dressed in a comfortably casual outfit. Hermione shivered when her lover came behind her and kissed the back of her neck, although she knew it was meant as a gesture of comfort rather than a lustful invitation.

Nonetheless, Hermione turned her head and met Fleur's lips with a little more force than she had intended. She resisted the urge to grin when the older woman nipped her lower lip and informed Hermione that if she kept that up, they'd never get on their way. With a wistful sigh, she let Fleur pull away and shrunk their luggage to a miniscule size. She had only packed enough for a few days, but Hermione had never really settled into the house and had emptied her closet into the trunks.

Fleur made some last minute checks around the house and Hermione slid the tiny pieces of luggage into her jacket pocket, pulling up her hood and going into the living room when she heard Fleur calling for her. Her lover kissed her on the cheek and offered out her hand. While she had described her small flat in Bordeaux in detail, Hermione had eased Fleur's worries by promising that she would be taken by Side-Along Apparation rather than doing it by herself.

Hermione clutched at Fleur's hand like a lifeline and felt a jerk in her stomach as they Apparated. But when she saw her lover's house, Hermione's eyes widened. The manor could by no means be described as a 'small flat' unless they were measuring by a giant's standards. It was two stories high and the windows were made of stained glass arranged in a rather eye-catching pattern. The double doors in the front looked like they could have held even if a dragon smashed headfirst into it, and when she turned and saw Fleur's sheepish grin, Hermione laughed.

"This is what you meant by small?"

The older woman blushed. "My parents insisted on making it the 'proper home of a noble Delacour' and since the architect was in my father's pocket, I didn't really get much of a choice in the whole affair."

"I love it." Hermione placed a chaste kiss on Fleur's lips, and they walked to the front of the manor hand in hand.

When they reached the imposing set of doors, Fleur pulled out an odd-looking silver key and inserted it into the lock. As the key turned, Hermione could hear several pairs of gears grinding against each other, and a faint clicking noise. Of their own accord, the doors swung open with a gentle creak and Fleur ushered Hermione inside with a quietly proud smile.

The interior of the house was even more impressive and the younger girl tried to keep her jaw from dropping. She turned to look at Fleur, and was startled when a small albino owl flew into the room and dropped a letter into her lover's hands. Fleur, however, did not seem surprised, and when the bird landed on her shoulder, stroked it's beak before opening up the envelope.

"Who's that from?"

Fleur looked up from the letter she had just unfolded. "My parents."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What do they want?"

The older woman scanned the letter and made a noise of surprise. "To see me. It's just a quick note, so they must 'ave sent it ze second they felt me breach ze wards."

"We got here a couple minutes ago. Unless that owl can fly-"

Fleur sighed. "They live close. Very close. Only a mile or two away."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Hermione asked softly.

"I did not want you to worry about family affairs, 'ermione. I apologize."

"Well, if they want to see you, it can't be that bad."

"Us," Fleur corrected, "They want to see us."

Hermione gulped. "They saw the article?"

" i Non /i , they only read the local paper, but a friend of my father's mentioned zat there was a rumor that I had a lover and was living with them."

"Them? They didn't tell your parents I was a woman?"

"Apparently, my father didn't ask any pressing questions."

Hermione rubbed her temples, attempting to stave off a headache she felt coming. "When do they want to see us?"

"As soon as we can be presentable, to quote my mother. But they mean tonight."

"What is their definition of presentable?"

"It means that I have to delve into the depths of my closet."

"For me or you?"

"Myself, certainly, although I'm sure they expect you're male and going to show up in ragged robes zat 'aven't been washed in three days."

Hermione chuckled softly. "Why? Have you brought home bedraggled boyfriends before?"

"Yes, on more than one occasion. I daresay they expect it by now."

"Well, considering I'm not male, what should I wear?"

Fleur sighed softly, using her wand to Summon a quill and write a response on the back of the letter. She offered it to the white owl, who snapped it up in its beak and flew out of the room in a little blur.

"What you're wearing is fine, 'ermione. I am the one they expect to adhere to their standards, not my significant others. My parents will judge you by your character, not ze cloth on your body. They simply expect me to hold up ze Delacour name, especially in their presence."

"You're used to it."

"Indeed, i mon amour /i . I am used to the many things my parents do to retain a shred of their old pureblood pride. But France 'as changed, and now it is merit zat matters, not ze blood in one's veins."

"Do you think it's for the better?" Hermione asked softly.

"Yes, of course. Zat is something the Muggles certainly 'ave over us. They change their form of government without being bogged down in a millennium of paperwork. We 'ave never had a revolution by anyone besides ze goblins, and our arrogance gets us nowhere."

Hermione nodded and Fleur kissed her briefly on the cheek.

"I'm going to change." She looked a little worried for a moment. "Are you going to wear your hood?"

The younger girl bit her lower lip nervously before mumbling. "No. I won't."

Fleur practically crushed Hermione in a tight embrace and whispered, "My parents will be proud. They will not judge someone as strong as you."

They shared a rough and heated kiss until Fleur pulled away, her face flushed. The older woman went up one of the sets of stairs after having Hermione hand her the luggage, and Hermione sat down in one of the chairs in the receiving room, tears in her eyes. She had just said she wouldn't wear her hood, but all she wanted right now was to suffocate in the damn thing. Fleur had the best of intentions, but Hermione knew that her lover had a bias when it came to speaking about her parents, even if she considered them old-fashioned.

By the time she heard Fleur coming down the stairs, Hermione had stubbornly wiped the tears from her eyes. When she turned her head to see her lover, the younger girl's eyes widened. Fleur was wearing a stunning dark blue dress with embroidered with shining silver thread. It was obvious to Hermione that Fleur was indeed in a tight corset that matched the velvet of the dress, and she shivered at the thought.

"'ow do I look?"

When Fleur reached the bottom of the steps, she spun around once to show Hermione the entirety of the dress, and it took every ounce of Hermione's self-control not to push her lover against the nearest wall. Fleur was absolutely gorgeous, and the younger girl said so in stumbling and halting tones, a blush coloring her face.

Fleur smiled and offered her hand to Hermione, who took it with gratitude, feeling a little out of place in this amazing house next to this more amazing woman. She felt her stomach do a little flip but nodded when her lover asked her in a voice that betrayed her nervousness if she was ready to go. Hermione bit her tongue when she felt the familiar jerk of Apparation, her grip on Fleur's hand painfully tight.

They appeared in front of the entrance to a very opulent mansion, and Fleur reached up to the gargoyle-shaped knocker. Hermione winced a little at the sharp noise it made, but Fleur mouthed an apology as the doors opened. The younger girl looked a little startled when she saw the tiny house-elf that had opened the huge doors, but guessed that it had been done magically rather than by hand.

"Miss Fleur, Domestique has not seen you for so long," the elf squeaked, a truly happy smile on her face.

Fleur raised a confused eyebrow. "Domestique, I gave you your freedom a long time ago. Why are you back 'ere again?"

"The Lady and Lord grow older, Miss Fleur, and offered Domestique a room and a few Sickles a week if I took care of things in the house after you left."

Her lover looked troubled, but Hermione saw her cover it up expertly and say, "Well, I'm glad to see you, Domestique. This is i mon amoureux /i , 'ermione Granger."

The house-elf startled Hermione by running up and tightly hugging her leg. Domestique stepped back a moment later and bowed, saying, "It will be an honor to serve you, Miss Granger. Miss Fleur is so kind to Domestique, and I can tell you will be too. Miss Fleur can always tell who has a good heart."

Fleur blushed a little but Hermione leaned down and said, "Thank you, Domestique. I hope to see you around again."

With a slightly embarrassed giggle, Domestique nodded and whispered, "I must take you to the Lord and Lady. They have been waiting for you in the study, and the Lord had me bring up one of his oldest wines."

"'e must be nostalgic." Fleur said softly. "We will find our own way to ze study, Domestique. Take a break and eat some supper."

The elf looked like she wanted to protest, but instead, kissed Fleur's free hand over and over before scurrying off. Hermione felt a little bewildered, but said nothing as Fleur led her up a long flight of stairs and into a hallway. The last door on the left was open and the younger girl took steps to control her breath. She felt exposed, but Hermione wasn't going to renege on her promise, not now. It was obvious, however, that she was not the only nervous one, as Fleur had deliberately slowed the pace at which they were walking.

"It'll be alright," Hermione managed to get out.

"Ah, 'ermione," Fleur sighed, "You bring such worry to my 'eart. But, no matter what I was offered, I would not change zat."

" i Je t'aime /i ."

The older woman, who had been staring pointedly at the floor, smiled and whispered, " i Je t'aime /i ."

With that said, Fleur led Hermione to the entrance of the study, and they both walked in, guilt and concern silently plaguing them. The first thing that caught Hermione's eye was the huge fireplace, with the hungry flames within fed by what looked like at least a dozen logs. The second was the icy blue stares of Fleur's parents directed right at her.

Several emotions choked the breath from her lungs. One was fear, to be sure, but when she looked at Fleur's mother, her mouth went dry. The Lady Delacour had twice the Veela blood of her daughter, and Hermione heard Fleur curse under her breath in French. Then a crushing guilt rose and quashed the lust, and the younger girl almost let out a whimper at the thought of the hungry look she had most likely directed at her lover's mother.

"Why am I not surprised zat you brought a woman home this time, Fleur?"

"Luther," Fleur's mother hissed, "Ze least you could do is respect your own flesh and blood. Your sarcasm is ze reason why she ran off to zat foolish war in the first place, coupled with your temper."

It was obvious that Luther was tempted to make a savage retort, but took a deep sip of his wine instead and muttered, "I am not ze only reason she left, Annette."

Fleur looked furious, and Hermione winced as her lover's nails bit into her palm.

"If all ze two of you are going to do is bicker, I will go back to being estranged."

Luther Delacour did not seem like a man that took insults or orders to Hermione, but he again nursed his wine and said, gesturing to the chairs across from them, "I apologize, Fleur. Now, please, sit down."

Hermione saw a glint of her father's temper in Fleur's eyes and was surprised when her lover sat down in one of the chairs, offering the other to her. The younger girl silently watched Fleur pour wine for both of them, and thanked her in a whisper when one of the full goblets was offered to her. Taking a gulp a little larger than she intended, Hermione shifted a little in discomfort.

"Now, Fleur," Annette said calmly, "What brought you back 'ome? We 'ave tried for months to get you to come back to France."

Fleur looked at the younger girl for a moment before asking, "I assume you 'ave heard of ze Golden Trio, yes?"

" i Oui /i , Fleur," Luther raised an eyebrow and said, "But what does zat 'ave to do with do with anything?"

Watching her lover sigh, Hermione guessed that she was used to being interrupted by her father while she was trying to explain things. Her father had done the same thing sometimes, but only if he had had a particularly bad day at work. She stared into her wine, and tried desperately to pay attention to the conversation rather than delving into old memories of her parents.

"Do you know ze name 'ermione Granger?"

Annette nodded a little. Then she paused, her eyes widening a little as she i looked /i at Hermione, really looked, not at the scars (although that was there), but at the young witch who had given up so much in order to secure a future safe from the clutches of Lord Voldemort.

"You," Annette said in awe to the younger girl, "Are i ze /i 'ermione Granger?"

Hermione put her wine down on the table between them and nodded slowly, considering on how to answer the question.

"Yes, Madame Delacour. I am."

Luther choked on his wine for a second and whispered, "You're telling ze truth, aren't you?"

"I think lying is a very nasty habit, Monsieur Delacour. I am not spewing false words at you to gain praise or admiration."

"You do always choose ze ones with passion, Fleur."

"I choose nothing, father, I simply 'ave ze luck of finding them."

"Luck?" Fleur's father laughed softly, "I call it ze charms of a Veela."

"You would know, wouldn't you, Luther?" Annette said coolly.

He attempted to glare at his wife, but his gaze softened and he returned to the inebriating comfort of his wine. Hermione noted that Fleur had only taken a single sip of hers, and had her hands tensely resting in her lap, as if her lover expected a pack of Death Eaters to burst into the room at any second. After Hermione considered that frightening possibility, she wasted a few moments regaining control over her paranoia and realized that she had missed the change of subject.

"Does this love you 'ave for 'ermione mean zat we should erase any 'ope of ever 'aving an 'eir carrying ze Delacour name?"

Fleur blushed, both out of frustration and embarrassment. "I think it is far too early to be thinking of children, father. There…there are many things left to be discussed between 'ermione and I before we talk of such things."

"Like what? 'er scars?"

The tight grip Fleur had on her goblet would have shattered if it had been made of glass, and when Hermione tried to tell her it was okay, her lover stood up and yelled, "If you will not accept 'ermione unconditionally and without these ulterior motives, I 'ave nothing to say to either of you. Goodbye, mother. 'ermione, we're going. Now."

Hermione kept her mouth shut as Fleur grabbed her by the wrist and almost knocked her over with the strength of her grasp and the speed at which she was walking. The older woman waited until they were outside the front doors, and instantly pulled Hermione with her in a nauseatingly quick Side-Along Apparation. The younger girl felt a little queasy, but kept quiet out of fear that she would say something to set Fleur off even further.

After a minute of Fleur taking deep breaths, Hermione said quietly, "Go inside. I'm going to stay out here and get some air."

"I am sorry zat they were so rude, 'ermione. I 'ave never seen them like this."

"It's alright." Hermione sighed. "Just go inside. Please?"

Fleur made a flustered sound and nodded, hands diligently working to loosen the stays on her corset as she walked up the stairs. Hermione sat down on the doorstep and felt an aching need to smoke. She had picked up the horrid habit in taverns during the war, and had been able to quit after forcibly going cold turkey in Bellatrix's little cell. But the urge was still there, and Hermione pulled her lighter out of her jacket, preferring the Muggle device.

She was contemplating Transfiguring a cigarette out of some of the fallen leaves, but suddenly there was an arm wrapped tight around her throat and a rough hand covering her mouth. Hermione tried to scream, but slowly the air was choked from her lungs and the last thing she saw before her vision blurred and faded was a glimpse of black hair and a set of hungry, crazed eyes.


End file.
